


Missed Ya

by JokesterWrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Jim's a bounty hunter, M/M, and he's getting drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokesterWrites/pseuds/JokesterWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's taken to stunting his emotions with drinks, and Bullock takes him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missed Ya

**Author's Note:**

> As seen on my Tumblr: JokesterWrites
> 
> A birthday gift for the lovely Selene.

It had been a long night on the job and Harvey Bullock was relieved to finally be heading home. Even if home was a messy apartment, a fridge of take out leftovers and a barely made bed. At least it was better than the mess the GCPD had been as of late. Acting Captain, while briefly enjoyable, had certainly taken it’s toll. There seemed to be more paperwork than bad guys, and Harvey missed the thrill of tracking some asshole down to knock their heads in for information.

The evening was rare in that the weather was pleasant enough and Harvey still had enough energy, that he decided to forego the short drive and instead walk to his apartment. Leaving his car parked at the precinct with the thought of dropping into a bar for a quick beer lingering in the back of his mind, Harvey dug his hands into the pockets of his leather coat and began the walk home.

The flicker of the sidewalk lamps lit his way, and the streets were still busy, if not more so than during the day. In a city like this, the nights were colourful. Women in seductive dresses and darkened makeup glanced at him curiously before moving past to far better prospects. There was a rare cooling breeze that brushed over his skin and Harvey breathed it in deep, gaze sliding over darkened closed shops to the brightly lit interiors next to them that bespoke of ale and good times. Harvey slowed his step when he caught the sight of a familiar blonde through a grime streaked window of one such establishment.

Jim Gordon didn’t recall ordering two glasses of whiskey, so it shouldn’t have been surprising when he reached for one and only felt air underneath his fingers instead of the cool glass exterior of the tumblur. His vision was blurred, coordination off, when he missed his glass, he tried again and bumped into the actual glass of whiskey. The amber liquid sloshed, spilling onto the aged wood of the bar’s counter. Jim grumbled, annoyed that those precious drops of forgetfulness were now being wiped up by an overly attentive barkeep.

He swallowed down the remainder of the glass and slammed it against the counter. “Another.” Jim ordered. The barkeeper raised a brow but diligently filled the glass when Jim pushed a $20 bill towards him. Jim clasped the glass properly this time and raised his hand in salute to the other man.

It wavered, and briefly he wondered if he should stop. He could no longer remember how many drinks he’d drowned. But whatever the number, they weren’t enough to forget. He’d forsaken the GCPD. He’d forsaken his partner Harvey, and now his life consisted of living paycheque to paycheque, supplementing the time in between with a mixture of booze and poor decisions.

Jim Gordon, the bounty hunter.

It paid enough. He had one room apartment, enough cash to keep the beat up car he drove in running and the liquor flowing. What anger he still held within him for the corrupt city was used against the bodies he dragged in for his paycheques. If there was any left… well it was taken out during moments like these.

“Fucking GCPD don’t do shit for this city. Just a bunch of fat asses sitting around and whining.” Jim heard the remarks behind him, and he tightened his jaw. The next snarking comments had the name of Bullock attached to them and had Jim slamming his glass down and turning to stumble from his bar stool. “What the hell did you say?”

The words seemed slow, like molasses in his mouth, but Jim didn’t care. He was fired up, angry and looking for one more fight. What could he say? It had been a slow week for work.

“What? You a pig lover?” The man snorted, setting his beer down and standing up. “The cops in this city are useless. Even more useless than they were when the mob held their leases.”

Jim saw red, but he cocked his head and grinned. “Bring it then bub.” The man he was up against was bigger, more muscle and more danger in his eye… and certainly a lot more sober. But Jim didn’t care. He swung the first punch. It landed, but the man barely gave a grunt of pain and instead smirked and threw his own fists back.

Pain throbbed through Jim’s body. He was used to it, it made him feel more alive than he had in months. But it wasn’t a fair fight. Not when Jim was a bottle of whiskey in and his steps swayed like a man trying to stand on the ocean. He stumbled back and the bartenders had rushed around to pull them apart. “Get out.”

“No!” Jim slurred, trying to shove off the firm hands and instead found himself dragged towards the door. He was thrown out, twisting just in time to land on his shoulder rather than his face. “Bastards.” Jim swore, collecting the blood and spittle in his mouth to spit against the ground. Raising a hand to his nose, Jim tried to staunch the blood pouring down and grimaced. His face was already beginning to swell, the bruising becoming dark under his eye and over the curve of his cheekbone.

A slow clap caught his attention and Jim looked up, squinting when his eyes drifted in and out of focus. Harvey dropped his hands and shook his head. “Hey boyscout. Keeping busy I see.”

Jim smiled, “Harv…” He tried to take a step forward and instead he stumbled, body tipping forward and Harvey was quick to catch him. “Whoah… Jimbo…” Harvey grunted when the younger man’s weight bore on him so unexpectedly.

“Gee…. Ceyyyy… Peee… Deeee…..” Jim slurred. The alcohol had caught up to him, “They were… Harvey?” Jim tried righting himself, one hand patting his jacket for something, “Car keys… I need my…” He continued to try and search through his pockets while Harvey kept his hands against Jim’s shoulders to steady him.

A quick glance around wasn’t proving favourable in terms of finding Jim’s car. Instead Harvey shook his head and sighed. “I’m getting too old for this shit.….. We’re taking a cab.” He supported a hand around Jim’s waist to guide him closer to the curb and waved down a taxi.

“Harv… I’m sorry…” Jim kept repeating, his words mixing together and coming out garbled. The older man shook his head and helped Jim into the cab before sliding in behind him. His address was given to the driver and Harvey propped the blonde up the best he could next to him. Jim slumped, turning his face into Harvey’s shoulder and nuzzling the leather of his jacket. Harvey raised a brow, but ignored it. He ignored the flutterings of happiness in his gut too. The ones that gave away how much he truly cared for this putz. Jim was a lot of things, but he was a good guy, and Harvey had a soft spot for the bugger.

The ride was fairly uneventful. If the fact that Jim was slumped against him, body curved inwards and a hand curved around Harvey’s arm was considered uneventful. The cab driver kept glancing at the two curiously in the mirror until Harvey snapped at him to keep his eyes on the road.

Vehicle slowling, Harvey glanced outside before popping the door open. Jim fell against the seat when Harvey’s presence moved away to pay the cabbie. “Alright kid, let’s get you upstairs.”

He wished Jim was a bit more sober. At least enough that he didn’t try and lean all his weight against Harvey. It would make getting him up 7 flights of stairs a lot easier. He cursed that his apartment was so far up, but the elevator had broken again last week so this was the only way he was getting Jim home. It took twice as long as it should, Jim being distracted and trying to talk. Harvey made noises of agreement, but concentrated on pulling his keys out and opening his apartment door.

“Oh… we’re at your place. Trying to take me home Bullock?” Jim’s poor joke was ruined when he attempted to lean in a mock seductive position against the doorframe and instead slipped. Harvey shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping as he guided Jim in, moving him directly towards the bed and hoping he wouldn’t fall off that too.

Jim swayed briefly as he sat down against the worn mattress and blinked owlishly at Harvey who bent to tug off Jim’s boots. They were tossed into a corner and Harvey let out a long sigh as he sat next to Jim on the bed. “I’ll get you something for the swelling, otherwise you won’t be seeing out of one eye in the morning.”

“Thank you…” Jim slurred, leaning in to kiss Harvey’s cheek. Instead his partner had turned, about to look at Jim to respond. Instead that kiss landed against Harvey’s lips. Immediately both their eyes widened in shock, and Harvey’s heart beat frantically. He’d wondered on occasion what Jim Gordon’s kisses felt like.

This one was sudden and sloppy, especially when they both melted into it and Jim’s tongue traced along Harvey’s bottom lip. There was a grimace of pain from the blonde when his damaged nose was bumped and Harvey pulled back. “Wait…” Jim blinked slowly, “I wasn’t done.” He murmured, looking more like a disappointed puppy then Harvey wanted to admit.

“I know… But you need some ice for the swelling, and we both need some sleep.” Harvey disappeared in the kitchen, part to compose himself and partly to retrieve the aforementioned ice. He wrapped it in a cloth and returned. Jim was now passed out, snoring against a pillow with his arm dangling over the edge of the bed.

A soft tired smile graced Harvey’s features and he set the ice down. A long sigh pulled from him and he pulled the blankets over Jim’s prone form and tucked him in. A chaste kiss was placed to Jim’s forehead and Harvey brushing his fingers through his blonde locks. “Night Jimbo. I missed ya…”


End file.
